“Could be one of them is lying.”

“I guess so, but I never got that sense.”

“Was there anyone you couldn’t find? A friend or acquaintance you haven’t been able to talk to?”

Alan shook his head. “I’ve talked to everyone I can remember. I realize someone must have helped her. I just have no idea who that could be.”

“Can you show me the note?” Logan asked.

Standing, Alan said, “It’s in my bedroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Why don’t I come with you?” Logan suggested. He wanted to take a look at the rest of the house, and try to get a sense of what Sara’s place had been within it.

Alan nodded. “Sure, okay.”

Logan followed him into a hallway, and up some stairs to the second floor. The upstairs hallway was lined with framed photographs, or rather, it would have been if not for the dozen or so empty nails spaced sporadically among the pictures that were left. Remembering what Callie had told him, Logan guessed the blank spots were places where photos Sara had been in once hung. Six weeks on, and Alan had not replaced them with anything. Was he hoping she’d come back and everything would return to the way it was, including the wall? Or did he want the physical reminder that his wife was gone? Most likely, the emotional wound was still so raw he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it.

The master suite took up the whole south end of the floor. In addition to the normal things a bedroom had, there was also a sitting area and a sliding glass door that led out onto a balcony.

Logan waited near one of the chairs while Alan stepped into a walk-in closet. A moment later, he reemerged holding a wooden jewelry box.

“This was my mother’s,” he said. “I gave it to Sara right after we got married.”

He opened it, revealing an empty, black velvet-lined tray. He lifted this out and put it on the chair. Underneath, sitting on more velvet, was a folded envelope.